


Thorn Vine Lily

by ThornVineLily



Series: Lily [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Death, Just realized this is my first English fiction that's not a translation work, My First Work in This Fandom, Plantbending, Sorry Not Sorry, This is so Me, Well not really but I don't know what's plantbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornVineLily/pseuds/ThornVineLily
Summary: /Silence/





	Thorn Vine Lily

    I never saw lilies the same way after that day.

    Of exactly what stupid reason did we choose to go into the forest that day, I don't know. It was possible that we were only driven by adventurous impulses. A beautiful day to go explore the gloomy forest, with the sky grey and clouds pressing for the promise of rain, a friend that always got you into huge shit, and the fact that electricity in our house went out.

    The house was new, a nice place in the sunlight of northern Maine under normal circumstances, but we haven't figured the entire living in countryside thing out yet. Meaning that in the past few weeks we've moved in, the faucet turned on at the wrong time, the light flashed, the fire refused to be lit, all the typical fun you'd go through living in a haunted house.

    In other words, I loved our new home.

    Living in the country felt great. I've always liked nature for one thing, so I'm right at home when our house was next to a forest and had a wide yard of nothing else than grassy field. There were vines that I couldn’t name climbing up from the side of the house, blooming pretty little white flowers that resembled lily flowers, doting the house in a pleasing arrangement of natural beauty--that was the way I described it in my diary.

 

    Richard reached out from my window, picked one of those flowers from the side of the wall, cursing when he had his finger pricked by the small thorns growing on the vines.

    That was the last straw to his straining patience obviously, because I was dragged out of the house to "explore those woods" with him right after that.

    I found the white "lilies" that bloomed everywhere fascinating. They were not only beautiful and bigger than the ones grown on the walls of the house, but also let off a soothing fragrance, clearing my head and amplified all the little comforting noises of the forest. 

    Some of the flowers grew out from the forest floor like normal lilies, more grew from vines that were covered in thorns, climbing up trees with their spikes and blooms until they were out of sight, spiraling lines of white flowers.

    Richard absentmindedly ripped off leaves and flowers while he walked, not particularly interested in anything we passed by, until we heard the distant sobbing.

    He looked at me more excited at something un-boring finally happening than concerned or scared.

    “Dude, you hear that?”

    I frowned and strained my ears. I could make out the faint sobbing now and I wondered in the back of my head why I hadn’t caught it before.

    “Sounds like somebody’s in trouble. Come on.”

    We moved as fast as we could toward what we think was the source of the voice. The whimpering sob was so quiet that I started silently pondering whether we’re going in the right direction or whether it was even real. It never got louder, on the opposite it seemed to fade weaker with every second passing by.

    Then as if appearing out of thin air, we found the person who was crying.

    The girl couldn’t be older than us back then, 16 tops, though it was rather hard to tell because she was curled into a ball against a tree, her long dark brown hair falling loose and obscuring most of her face, vines from the tree tangled into her hair. Her clothes were torn, black blouse and dress with holes ripped through them, deep cuts and wounds completely covered visible parts of her skin, blood clotted or still half running on edges of the wounds, some of them deep enough that I saw flashes of white inside them, of which I suspected were bones. The sobs were completely mute now, soundlessly shuddering through her body as she hung her head, her mouth carefully gagged, secured with strips of cloth wrapping and finishing in a tight knot at the back of her head.

    One of the more unsettling details though, was how she was tied to the tree. Somebody tied her wrists together with the vines commonly seen in this forest, flowers and thorns attached, so that her blood stained the petals and spikes. As far as I saw the other end of the vine was attached to another vine on the tree, but that’s not all.

    Her legs were stringed together with the same sort of vines, piercing through each knee, then going around both legs in extra loops before tied to god-knows-where, because my nausea didn’t allow me to check any further.

    “Holy shit.” Richard ran up to the girl, starting to ungag her mouth, excitement finally wiped from his face by the sight. “Are you alright? How did you get here?”

    I had to hold back from retching. The coppery smell of blood mixed in heavily with the scent of lilies, the latter surprisingly not making things better for my gag reflexes. I was too busy standing in place and covering my mouth and nose to help while Richard untied the harness and took the gag from the girl’s mouth.

    Still she didn’t immediately talk when her mouth was free, continuing to cry silently, her body shaking with each sob, and hands going up to cover her face.

    All sound drained out of the woods and before I knew it, the world seemed to pinpoint on the small area of ground including us three, the air suffocating in my lungs. For one moment I thought I caught a flash of the girl's eyes-the sort of eyes that carries a gaze, the kind that looks dead and empty and makes you feel everything from the want to scream, to the urge to look away, or to simply sit down and never open your mouth for the purpose of any sound-making ever again.

    “Hey, you’re safe now, we got you.” Richard said softly to her then turned to me. “Dave, don’t just stand there man, come on and help.”

    “I’m hungry.”

    The girl choked out. She sounded like her throat was also stuffed with something, she might’ve had a good voice, but now she was talking in a dried whisper.

    We both jumped at her voice. I was nearly passing out from the intoxicating smell by then, I didn’t know how Richard still seemed fine. He sighed relief at that she could talk. I sure as hell don't want to hear another damn word out of her, but the trees are starting to look too tall, the forest way too eerily quiet, rather than strangling the trees, all the gruesomely thorned vines feel like they're strangling me, and the flowers didn't look in the least beautiful anymore. They look like they're watching.

    “Well, we can get you food once we get back to this guy’s house, it’s not far.” He reached up to touch the girl’s wrist. “You’re OK, hey, you don’t have to cry-”

    I could’ve sworn on my life that her wrists **were** bound solid before.

    In a flash of movement terrified screams split the silence of the forest, the entire process way too fast for me to register any of it, but when I finally caught up with the situation, Richard was wrestling to pull away from the girl, howling while she had seized his arm in a vice grip. His right forearm was missing a decent strip of muscle, tissues hanging in red strings flailing around as he fought, blood droplets flying, the absent piece being in the girl's mouth, I remember a curl at the corner of her mouth, a smile of soft content that I have never been able to wipe from my mind for more than ten years.

    Despite all that screeching Richard was making, I still somehow heard the girl's murmur.

    “I’m hungry.”

    I was frozen to the spot, chill of the white gray sky seeped and settled in me, fear was no longer the word for this shit, it was a void in the pit of my stomach that sucked rational and irrational thoughts, leaving raw emotions and my senses sharp and clear, absorbing every detail. I couldn’t figure out a way to make myself move yet, couldn’t even make a sound, simply staring, Richard’s blood splattering onto my face.

The girl tore into Richard’s arm, her throat moving to swallow, blood soaking her hair into strings, Richard pummeled her with all the strength you can imagine out of a man fighting to be alive, kicked and scratched and grabbed wildly at her hair, ignoring the pain caused by thorned vines in among her hair, but his effort was equally ignored by the girl. There was a sickening crunch, and Richard screamed even louder, if that was possible, tugging his arm as if wanting to rip it off for good.

    Vines were suddenly breaking out from the girl’s skin, rupturing flesh to poke through, thorns and flowers dark with blood, the earth also cracked open as if on cue, more vines growing out, all starting to climb Richard’s body. Thorns dug into him, piercing in to make 'footholds', then moving upwards, growing further, the spike cutting long dripping wounds on his body.

    Richard's malice in his attempt to escape never ceased, but all of it was futile. His shoulder was hauled forward in one fluent action and she sank her teeth into his neck.

    The girl kept her mouth closed over the fatal wound drinking in big gulps. As Richard’s voice got more and more feeble and finally ceased to be, body going limp, the vines allowed him to the forest floor, the girl crouching down with him, her hand came to rest upon his chest. 

    It went back to being quiet then, aside from occasional sniffles the girl made with her head down, the shrieks of Richard was as if never held presence in the forest, like a knife slash through the water, absorbed under and just, gone.

    Then with a horrible wretch in my throat, I realized that no, she wasn't just putting her hands there, her fingers were digging into the flesh between rib bones, making progress albeit with slight difficulty, and I recognized the motion right before the rib cage gave way.

    A combination of crackling, crunching and sickening ripping sounds I didn't want to acknowledge followed, she bent bones out of the way and reached, clutched something and yanked, out came the still weakly pumping heart, blood gushing in rivulets down her arms, of which she seemed to study closely like it was something stunningly amazing, then licked up along the line of liquid. Setting the organ aside, the girl continued her work of extremely patiently pulling Richard inside out, piece by piece, the vines latched onto the edge, widening the opening.

    I think she realized I was still there when I stiffly backed up and made a rustle in the leaves.

    She looked up.

    I had never regretted being in a place more all my life.

    The blood all over her face was the least thing to worry about. Her mouth had few thin vines reaching out, bloody substances that looked suspiciously like petals dropped from her mouth.

    Her right eye, the one not hidden with hair, was staring at me wide and bloodshot with barely perceptible dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well. Tears were still trickling, making clear paths through the patches of blood before melting into them. Her gaze was hollow. Whatever possible thing that might brighten one's eyes-hope, happiness, bravery-lacked in hers. That eye belonged to that of a depression victim, squeezed dry of life.

    There was nothing in the eye socket of the other side else than a huge lily.

    A complete lily flower with corolla, pistil, stamen, everything. Dark brown strands of her hair draped over the flower, getting caught between the petals, which spread to cover almost the entire half of her face. Blood rolled on the white petals. Center of the flower, close to where the iris originally might have placed, was scarlet in color. The flower twitched as her right eye moved to focus on me as if it was observing me as well.

    As she stood my legs collapsed could only scramble backwards on my hands, although she didn’t chase me.

    The girl pressed one finger to her lips. I didn’t see how the word was formed, but I heard the whisper:

    “Silence.”

    I pulled myself up using the vines on a tree right beside me, never minding the pain caused by thorns sinking into my palms, and ran. Not looking back, though I knew she was watching, possibly always will be watching. The forest passed by in blurs of colors, the flowers zipped in and out of my view as white lines, I knew they were watching, they didn’t move or grow, but I knew, I knew.

 

    I told nobody of what I saw in the forest that day. Keeping quiet only brought up more questions--what were people supposed to think when two people went into the forest with only one coming out, covered in blood, and couldn’t give a good explanation of where the other went? Police came to question me but the blood on me was all splatter marks while my hands were clean, something they just couldn’t figure out why. In the end everyone simply had to abandon the idea that I murdered Richard, even my parents and siblings gave up trying to ask me about the incident, for every time they did I started to go hysterical. I postponed going to the new school that September, because although I wasn’t physically hurt in any way, I was in a terrible mental state. I couldn’t even bare the idea of being outside with trees and grass and flowers all watching listening to me. There couldn’t be plants of any sort in my room during the period of time when I had to stay in bed, no potted plants, no bouquets, not a leaf, not a fiber, I would start screaming on sight of any plant, and smashed every vase containing even mere twigs.

    Search teams went into the forest to look for Richard, but never found anything left of him, not even a single drop of blood. They stopped sending teams into the forest after one team went in and never came back out, the majority of their devices found at the rim of the forest a week later.

    Gradually I came out of the memory of the forest and the girl, enough to go to school. I made new friends, started sports, had a relationship. My girlfriend told me about all the gossips and stories in the school, I wasn’t particularly interested in most of them: a playboy in school who got beaten up after dating the wrong person, a teacher that drank 16 coffees and went to the ER, a girl who committed suicide by some way nobody knew.

    The girl’s name was Lily. 

    A girl with long dark brown hair always covering almost one half of her face, who was usually silent, had severe depression and the ability of self-harming using anything within reach. It was said that she was also homicidal, though exactly who said so wasn’t clear. There were a few people witnessing her lap up the blood on her skin with a look of soft content after self-harming, whispering to plants and flowers and stroking them, staring at people’s wounds with a gaze that made others extremely uncomfortable. Not saying anything when doing so only made her actions creepier.

    “I’ve talked with her before.” My girlfriend shook her head. “She was nice enough, had a good voice too… It’s sad that she had to…”

    I wrapped her in my arms, and the subject was changed.

    Over the years I graduated, got into a university, moved, had a job, had children. My plant phobia faded with time, but I still shudder at the sight of lilies. I still thought about that forest and Lily sometimes, whether or not she died there, whether or not she was out of the forest, whether or not she was still watching to see if I’ve kept to her warning and kept mute about her. I pushed the last thought down every time, telling myself that she couldn’t possibly still be keeping an eye on me all these years.

 

    There is a family reunion at our old house in Maine. Everything looks the same, the white lilies blooming on thorny vines climbing up the house, the big grassy field, the silent forest. My older sister and brother came, so did my younger sister who just got her first job out of college. We talk, laugh, our kids play in the field shrieking in glee, and the adults gather in the living room to drink after the all kids go to bed.

    “Hey Dave.” My brother speaks up with words a little slurred and his fourth bottle of beer in hand. “You ‘member the thing that happened when you were 16? When your friend-Richard right? Went into the forest with ya an’ didn’t come out? What was that?”

    “He doesn’t have to tell if he doesn’t want to.” My older sister shoots him a dirty look. 

    I smile. “I’m OK. It’s long over now, the problem isn’t whether I’ll be alright telling it, it’s whether you’ll believe what I say.”

    And I tell them about the lilies, the vines, the girl named Lily in those forests, who ate Richard for lunch. I stare out of the window from the living room as I tell the story, the dark of the forest still visible at night, I can even imagine the white lilies decorated on the trees.

    “That’s a good scary story for the kids, bro, ‘don’t go into unknown forests by yourselves or the flower girl will eat you!’” My brother laughs and puts down his bottle.

    “It’s not something to joke about, I guess, but I’m glad you’re over it now.” He pats my shoulder as he gets up beside me, announcing that he's going to bed, his wife getting up to leave with him as well. I give my brother a grin and a “good night”. That leaves my sisters and my wife sitting on the opposite side of me, starting to talk beauty tips, a topic of which I have no right to express my opinions in. I lay back on the sofa with a beer in hand, feeling satisfied and content as I turn my gaze back out the window.

    Peeking in from the windowsill is a big lily flower, scarlet in the center, the pearly petals of it illuminated by the light of the house, the white of them innocent and pure save for a smidge of blood on one petal.

    Just as innocently, a single finger rises up into the air beneath the lily.

    Silence.

  


Fin.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first pasta, I'm pretty iffy about it, so I decided to post it here on ao3 first to see how people like it before I subscribe it as an actual creepypasta. As you can see this is an original character, and I'm possibly going to write about her story in the series, so please comment on your thoughts and ideas!  
> As you might also see, yes the title and the character's name is my account name. I am Lily, and I will be very happy to be called as that. I like the character very much and I've used it as my own for a long time, until I started reading creepypasta a few days ago and was like ok I think my character is just going towards the creepypasta direction in general so why not. Being "mine" for a long time, Thornvine Lily is a lot like me in ways and her story is going to be, let‘s just say, true.  
> Also, just so that you know, my profile pic IS NOT Thornvine Lily. This lovely girl is Pinkamena Diane Pie from mlp, thank you very much.
> 
> Thank my precious friend at school who helped beta this! English is not my first language, so if you see anything literal that could be improved, please comment as well!!
> 
> Lily loves you all!!!(*´∀`)~♥ヾ(✿▽ﾟ)ノ


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